Of Moons, Birds & Monsters
by musicalvoice
Summary: 17-year-old Bella Swan finds herself a Forks transplant after her mother kicks her out of their home in Phoenix. OS.


The names and likenesses, of course, belong to Stephenie M.

* * *

Charlie prattled on from his seat beside me in the front of the police cruiser, moving topics so quickly that I could barely latch on to one before he was already on the next.

The theme was clear, though: Bella, you're a fuck up.

"It's going to be different here," he threatened. "It's going to be different or you're going to go live with your grandmother in Nevada. Is that what you want?"

While the hot, arid climate did sound inviting, the thought of her 1,000 porcelain cats' painted eyes following my every move was enough in itself to shoot down that option.

"No," I grudgingly told him.

"Good. Now, I know Renee gave you a looser leash in Phoenix, but it's…"

"It's going to be different, here," I finished, surveying how badly my nails had gotten chipped during my rushed move-out earlier in the day. Clothes flew, CDs were thrown, overflowing bags casually tossed into our front yard, devoid of any grass. The sand that made its way into my luggage would be a welcome reminder of what I'd left behind.

I didn't really get what Renee was flipping about. I mean, sure, my friends were in college. Sure, we spent a good chunk of time in bars. I know I wasn't really doing too hot in school, but she and I both knew that that had gone on long before I started hanging out with Dexy and her friends. As far as I was concerned, I was being a normal 17 year old girl. Renee simply wanted me out so she could focus on her own life.

Not that I was hating on her for bringing me into this world, but it's just a fact that some people are too self-absorbed to have kids. She was one of them.

Charlie, continuing to freak out beside me, was the polar opposite of Renee. It was clear that keeping me on the straight and narrow wasn't a small deal for him; he was planning on making it his whole life.

"There aren't any bars in Forks, so we shouldn't have any problems like that," he continued, making a list using his fingers of the things that were _verboten _in the Swan household.

"You're to be home during the week at 8 P.M."

"8:00? Seriously? But that's not even enough time to…. Do homework!" I improvised.

"Well, see, the word _homework _implies that it's meant to be done at _home._"

I was over his condescending tone already.

"No drinking. I'm friends with every officer in a 60-mile radius, so if you're busted I'll know before your ass even gets thrown into the back of the squad car. And I'm not going to bail you out, Isabella."

"Clearly," I mumbled as I craned my head out the window to take in the passing scenery.

It wasn't my first time in Forks, but each summer I'd spent there growing up had been so boring that I had tried to block the whole town from my memory. I'd never been at Charlie's long enough to make any friends, so I would be entering the middle of my junior year without knowing a single person.

Obviously this was the stuff dreams were made of.

Charlie slowed as we pulled up to the house he and my mom had purchased two decades ago. Two floors. Some peeling paint. Trees. Lots of trees.

"Don't make any bright plans for that tree by your window. I'm having it cut down tomorrow," he warned as he got out of the car.

"And why would you do that?" I questioned.

"I was a teenager, once, Bella. I don't want anyone feeling that it's their own private entrance, including you. You'll use the front door."

"But this isn't just a matter of me following the rules, Charlie," I bargained.

"DAD. Dad, padre, father… any of those. Not 'Charlie.' Show some respect," he growled as he easily lugged what was left of my life- my luggage- up the stairs and tossed it on my childhood bed.

"Fine, _padre_. This isn't just a matter of me following the rules. You need to think of the ramifications your actions will have on the environment. Removing the tree and its roots could cause the ground to subside, opening up the possibility of the _awesome _daily rain showers to cause flooding around the foundation of the house. "

He squinted his eyes as he glanced at me. His eyes gave away that he was surprised I knew about subsidence. Also a bit of disgust.

"I will worry about that, Bella, not you. Has anyone ever told you that you had a smart mouth?" He asked.

"On a daily basis," I muttered as my fingers explored the faded quilt that covered the top of my bed.

I caught Charlie looking at me with a curious glint in his eyes. Sadness? Caution? Pity? There seemed to exist a combination of all three.

"Life is going to be different here, Bells," he said, exhaling a deep breath and exiting my room.

Here's to hoping.

* * *

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

My arms thrashed about, trying to find (and stop) the source of the God-awful noise. A little too energetically, apparently, as a second later I found myself sliding off of the bed, landing unpleasantly on the hardwood floor with a "Hmmph."

My eyes jolted open, scrambling to focus and take in the sudden presence of light.

"Bells," Charlie knocked on my door with a sigh. "Don't want to be late your first day, do you?"

Trick question.

I awkwardly unwound myself from the pretzel configuration I had somehow landed in, and surveyed the lay of the land.

Hanging on the wall were mementos from my childhood. A Backstreet Boys poster. A hand-made "Bella loves Jakie" sign. A Hug-A-World that had seen much better days. As I studied the walls, I was surprised to find that I felt detached from all of the objects. I was numb.

Pulling myself off of my philosophical bullshit track, I grabbed one of the duffel bags I had haphazardly thrown into the corner last night and made my way to the bathroom to get ready for school.

"I'm sorry we're here a little bit early," Charlie said as he pulled to the front of the empty parking lot. "I just need to get to work and I figured you could use the extra time to become familiar with the front office staff of Forks High."

"You know, Charlie, I am old enough to drive."

"DAD," he corrected with a sigh. "I'm from the old school persuasion that trust is something that has to be earned, Bella. Let's see how the next couple of weeks go, and then we can re-evaluate the situation."

He paused and rubbed his eyes with another hearty sigh. At least we had a routine going.

"I'll be here to pick you up at 3:30, okay? Right here," he pointed at a bench outside the window.

"DAD," I mocked, "I do believe I'm capable of following simple directions."

He mumbled and shook his head as I opened the door and grabbed my bag.

"Have a good first day," he muttered as he pulled away in the squad car.

I stood and watched the car driving away as it disappeared into the horizon. I contemplated ditching school, but I _really _didn't want to spend the rest of my life riding to school in the squad car. As if being 17 in a new town wasn't hard enough.

Adopting Charlie's habit of sighing, I let out a deep breath I hadn't realized I had been holding, resigned, and made my way into the office.

The middle-aged lady behind the desk didn't say anything when she noted my presence, but her expressions spoke volumes.

Her eyes travelled down my body, silently judging my _Runaways _t-shirt, simple black skirt, black lace leggings, and my ancient Doc Martins.

I couldn't hold her critique against me, though, as I was eyeing her kitten appliquéd salmon sweatshirt and barrel bangs.

She loudly cleared her throat as I defiantly stood my ground in front of her.

"Why, you must be Miss Isabella Swan?" she asked with an uppity and unexpected southern drawl.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Pleased to meet you. We've got your schedule right here, and one of the students volunteered to show you around today. You have a meeting this morning with our guidance counselor to discuss your transition into Forks. Do you want to have a seat over there until he arrives?" She questioned, motioning to a seat in the corner with her eyes.

"Super."

I rolled my eyes and collapsed into a chair as far away from her as possible. She rounded the corner of her desk and handed me my schedule, a map of the school, and pamphlets on saying no to drugs, prompting an eye roll on my part.

I wanted to ask her if she knew what happens when one assumes. I wanted to tell her to fuck off, that she didn't know me from Adam.

But instead I kept quiet.

"So, how do you like Forks so far, Isabella?"

"It's super," I replied, picking at the lace that covered my knees.

Mr. Donald, the sole guidance counselor of Forks High, looked concerned. I looked around his office, admiring the bits of personality that popped amongst the mundane posters you expect to see in every guidance counselor's office. A stack of CD cases next to his mouse. A dog-eared copy of the Picture of Dorian Gray atop his messenger bag. If circumstances were different, I probably would have liked him. But they weren't.

"We've received your transcripts from your last school, Isabella-"

"Bella," I cut him off.

"Excuse me. So, we've received your transcripts and-"

"Listen, Mr. Donald, I know. They aren't good. I can only imagine the things that you read about me before you even met me. And you know what? It's probably all true. But I'm here for a fresh start. There's nothing you can say to me that my parents haven't said or that I haven't thought. I get it. I'm not going to be troublesome."

"I was just going to say that your scholastic performance indicated that you'd be a good match for our Advanced Placement track," he said apprehensively.

Foot, meet mouth.

I grimaced apologetically.

"Do we have cause to be concerned?"

"Fresh start," I reiterated.

"Do you want to tell me about what happened at the last school?" he questioned.

I wordlessly shook my head.

"Okay, Bella. I'm here if you change your mind. Back to those AP classes," he pressed on.

I felt like a failure as Mr. Donald prattled on about the classes I would be taking. Back home, the problem never was that I wasn't smart enough to ace my classes, it was just that you had to attend class to actually do well. Therein lay the issue.

In a weird way, I was looking forward to my new beginning. Finding myself in a (sort of) new town full of people who didn't know me was far from the worst thing that could've happened to me. I had a feeling I might be a bit different from the majority of my classmates, but that was honestly nothing new. You don't dress and do the things I do… or did without creating a little bit of ruckus.

I was at a crossroads. I knew it. Charlie knew it. Even Mr. Donald seemed to be catching on pretty quickly. I had a blank slate.

The only issue was that I wasn't quite sure what to _do _with it.

* * *

**A/N ** Title credit to MGMT.


End file.
